


Once Upon a Dream

by MsThunderFrost



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alpha M'Baku, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Daddy M'Baku, Established Relationship, Family Feels, M/M, Miscarriage, Omega T'Challa (Marvel), Post-Black Panther (2018), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pregnancy, Size Difference, healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: “How is the pain?” Shuri asked softly, “I can administer a mild, localized pain killer – anything stronger and it’ll make the bleeding worse.”He sighed, “For my third miscarriage… the pain is not unbearable. I’ve become accustomed to it.”Now that the Jabari have come down from the mountain and Wakanda has opened itself up to the rest of the world, all T'Challa wants is to have a baby. M'Baku's baby, to be exact. But it would seem as if fate had something else in mind...





	1. Intro

While he knew that Shuri’s hand on his shoulder was meant to act as a source of comfort, T’Challa could not help but feel suffocated by the soft, almost hesitant touch. In the heavy silence that had fallen over his little sister’s laboratory, that simple touch communicated so much more than words ever could…

“I’m sorry, brother.” T’Challa released a breath that he had not realized he had been holding, the rush of air sounding uncomfortably akin to a sob. He did not realize that tears were falling from his eyes until Shuri pressed a napkin into his hands.

T’Challa shook his head, “You were not the one who fired the gun, Shuri. This… None of this is your fault.” He placed his palm on his abdomen, just below his sternum, where his informal black robes hid a nasty, purple-black bruise. “I suppose I just hoped that -,”

“You saved that child’s _life_ , brother.” Shuri said firmly, and this brought a small smile to the King’s face. “She, and countless others, will live to see another day because of the Black Panther… because of _you_.”

“I did not even have a chance to tell M’Baku the news before…” he looked away then. “As soon as I saw him take out the gun, I knew I’d lose it.”

“How is the pain?” Shuri asked softly, “I can administer a mild, localized pain killer – anything stronger and it’ll make the bleeding worse.”

He sighed, “For my third miscarriage… the pain is not unbearable. I’ve become accustomed to it.”

Since M’Baku had first mentioned children to his heartmate a year and a half after the Jabari came down from the mountains, they’d been trying to conceive. As much as T’Challa loved his step-children and constantly smothered them with love and affection every chance he got, his inner-omega yearned for a little one which shared his blood and M’Baku’s.

He hadn’t told his heartmate about the pregnancies or the miscarriages, though he knew that the Great Gorilla must’ve been suspicious when the fluctuation in hormones caused his scent to change. While he knew it was ludicrous to think about it this way, he worried that M’Baku would view his inability to carry to term as somehow making him ‘faulty’ or ‘damaged’. Sooner or later, he’d realize that he could do so much better and move on… and T’Challa would be left to pick up the pieces, alone.

Shuri offered her brother a small, reassuring smile that did not quite reach her eyes. She knew how much her brother wanted to have a child, had seen the longing in his eyes every time he played with his stepdaughters. He loved M’Baku’s girls as if they were his own, but every time that he was with them he was reminded of his own inability to give M’Baku an heir. Shuri had done all that she could to help her brother bear a child, but all of the technology in the world could not compensate for the damage caused by jumping in front of a speeding bullet.

“You must talk with M’Baku, brother. Tell him of your loss. Allow him to mourn with you. This needn’t be your burden to carry alone.” Shuri said, settling one small hand over the one that T’Challa had rested on his bruised abdomen.

T’Challa smiled sadly, “I did not ask him to come down from the mountains just to fill his life with more disappointment and heartbreak.”

“And he did not swear his life to you just to stand by and allow you to suffer alone.” Shuri retorted firmly.

T’Challa seemed to consider this for a moment, before completely derailing the conversation with, “I was wondering if you’d be able to…” here, he swallowed hard, “to stop the bleeding. The pain I can ignore, but the blood… there is just so much of it, I… I…”

Shuri was able to read between the lines, “I can perform a D&E. That should stop the heaviest of the bleeding, and with any luck you’ll be able to go back to protecting small children by throwing yourself in front of speeding bullets by dinner.”

\--

While he was not ready to ‘throw himself in front of a speeding bullet’ by dinner, he was certainly in better spirits – at least, to the outside observer. He offered his husband a warm smile when the larger man planted a wet kiss on his cheek, before claiming the seat beside him. It had taken some time for him to grow accustomed to M’Baku’s frequent public displays of affection, as the Jabari seemed to have far less reservations when it came to expressing their emotions when compared to the other tribes… now, he reveled in the attention every time an opportunity presented itself. After all, such displays of affection meant that his alpha was pleased and content.

“How was your afternoon with the little princess?” M’Baku whispered into his ear as one of T’Challa’s attendants began to line the table with preparations for dinner. He felt a flush rising to his cheeks, M’Baku’s warm breath dancing across his skin…

T’Challa offered his husband his most disarming smile, “It was wonderful. Shuri wanted to discuss her latest vibranium research -,”

“Have I ever told you what a horrible liar you are?” M’Baku cut in, his tone terse. T’Challa flinched, instinctively leaning away from the bigger man, causing M’Baku to soften almost immediately. “I can smell your distress, love. Did something happen?”

T’Challa silently prayed that that was all he could smell. “I had a run-in with an arms dealer earlier this morning and ended up on the wrong side of his gun. I’m a little banged up, but the suit absorbed most of the damage -,”

“The damage was bad enough to seek out your sister’s assistance, and yet you did not think to have me informed?” The Great Gorilla snapped.

“It was not a life or death situation. It did not seem worth it to disrupt your routine for some minor bruising.” He said softly.

“Everything about you is important to me. No matter where I am or what I am doing, if something happens to you, I want to know.”

M’Baku began to nose at the junction between his neck and shoulder, dangerously close to both his mating mark and one of his more sensitive scent glands. He pressed a quick kiss to his mating mark, as if to reassure the young King of the truth behind his words. If T’Challa were to ever wonder how his husband felt about him, he need only remember how surprisingly gentle he’d been when he’d first sunk his teeth into T’Challa’s virgin skin and marked him as his own – how he’d stared into his eyes, waiting for explicit consent from the smaller man before sealing their mating bond – and how reverently he kissed it each time T’Challa exuded distress pheromones.

T’Challa drew away with a bit more force than necessary, eliciting a small sound of surprise from his husband. Much as he appreciated the attention, it was still too soon after the miscarriage… having M’Baku so close, it was any wonder he hadn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together already. He didn’t want to lie to him, and he knew that M’Baku would be furious if he found out that he had lied, but the alternative, in his opinion, was much worse…

M’Baku frowned, “Have I done something to offend you, kitten?” The nickname, usually spoken with warmth and affection, now drips venom.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that…” the attendant choose that moment to return with the food, and earned a nasty glare from M’Baku for her efforts. The beta gave a shaky smile and hurriedly excused herself. “Please, let’s just enjoy our meal. We can talk later -,”

“We _will_ talk later.” The alpha corrected firmly, his tone dripping with authority. The words sent a shiver down T’Challa’s spine.

He didn’t think that he’d ever sat through a more uncomfortable dinner in his life.


	2. 'Defective'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update, ya'll. Have a nice, meaty, angst-filled chapter!

M’Baku had refused to speak to him for the balance of dinner. T’Challa had done his best to not let it bother him – he knew that he’d invited such behavior when he’d pushed the bigger man away, but that didn’t make the sting of rejection hurt any less. M’Baku had never been a particularly talkative man, preferring to let his actions speak for him. And now, T’Challa could feel the coldness pour off of him in waves.

He’d excused himself from the table without a word, leaving T’Challa to stare at his barely touched plate by his lonesome. With a sigh, he pushed the plate away and went to follow his heartmate. It would seem as if the Jabari chief had managed to make it all the way to their private chambers, his roughhewn boots and kilt had been sprawled messily on the bed and the Wakandan King could hear the sound of running water coming from their bathroom.

He pressed his forehead to the smooth wood of the door, “Please, M’Baku… do not shut me out.”

There was silence for a long while, the sound of hot water splashing on tile the only thing filling the void, and for a moment he worried that M’Baku hadn’t heard him. Then, “I am not the one shutting people out, little King.”

T’Challa shuddered, his husband’s warm baritone washing over him in a wave and comforting him in a way that words could not properly convey. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he asked, “May I come in?”

“You are King. Do what you want.” There was frustration in his tone, poorly concealed beneath a layer of nonchalance.

“It is not always about what I want.” T’Challa said, disgusted that M’Baku felt he’d take advantage of his station like that.

“I beg to differ. In fact, if our earlier conversation is anything to go by, the _only_ thing that matters is what _you_ want.”

T’Challa’s stomach ached, and he really just wanted to lay on the bed and cuddle with the larger man. He wrapped an arm around his painfully flat stomach and took a deep breath through his nose, “I do not want to fight…”

He received no answer, and took that to mean that their conversation was over. He pushed away from the door, deciding to check in on his step-daughters. The girls had spent most of the day with his mother, learning the duties of a Wakandan princess. His mother, who’d struggled greatly with the fact that she could no longer bear children of her own, was over the moon at the prospect of being a grandmother. All of the motherly responsibilities, with the added joy of being able to send them home to their actual parents at the end of the night, she claimed.

The girls shared a room down the hall from T’Challa’s private library. He’d hired the best interior designers to decorate the space in the style of the Chief’s palace back in Jabariland, to make them feel more at home. He knocked on the door once, before poking his head inside – he was immediately assaulted with the soft scent of frozen, woodsy earth. The room is decked out in warm colors that remind him of the perpetually frozen tundra that was the mountains of the Jabari, smoke filling the space from the cedarwood-scented incense they were burning.

“Father!” Imani, the younger of M’Baku’s twins, was rushing into his arms before he even had the door fully open. She filled his arms with warmth and he felt his heart, which had begun to beat erratically in his chest, begin to slow.

“Hello, my darling. I trust that you had a good day with your grandmother?” He smiled at Imani’s enthusiastic nod.

“Grandmother took us to the dressmaker and commissioned new outfits for our birthday!” She announced excitedly.

He flinched when another tiny body launched itself at his leg, almost succeeding in knocking him to the ground. “Father, we missed you today!” Usually, he was able to check in with his step-children at least once a day, but today had been… difficult.

With a grunt, he scooped Uma up into his arm. The little girl encircled her arms around his neck and laid her head against his chest, “I’ve missed you girls as well. But I hear that your grandmother went on a bit of a shopping spree…”

“She bought me a teddy bear!” Uma said, pulling a colorful, hand-sewn bear seemingly out of thin air.

“Me too, me too!” Imani exclaimed happily, before shoving the stuffed animal into her sister’s face. “But mine’s bigger!”

Uma rolled her eyes, “That’s because you _wanted_ the bigger one, dummy.”

The younger twin pouted, “Who’re you callin’ a dummy, dummy?”

T’Challa did his best not to snicker at the _brilliant_ comeback, knowing that it would only serve to reinforce the poor behavior, but he couldn’t help it. The girls were too much like M’Baku for their own good. Before they could come to blows over whether or not size actually _did_ matter, he pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks and knelt down so that, when he set them both back on their feet, they were all at eye-level. The girls immediately stopped talking and turned to him expectantly.

“How was your day, Father?” Imani asked. Often, T’Challa marveled at how easy it was for children to be derailed from one topic of discussion to another. “Did you fight any bad guys? Tell us, tell us!”

“I bet you took them down like this!” Uma said, before demonstrating a rather impressive series of kicks for a child of her size. “Or maybe like this!” She twirled around, chopping at the air dramatically.

“Have you been spending ‘special’ time with your Aunt Shuri, again?” T’Challa asked, shaking his head. His sister liked to entertain the girls by putting on fight simulations with the suits that she created for him.

“No!” Imani chirped immediately.

“Yes!” Uma answered almost at the exact same time.

T’Challa crossed his arms over his chest, “What did I tell you two about lying?”

Imani’s lower lip quivered at the perceived reprimand, and T’Challa felt that familiar knot in his stomach tightening once more. She sniffled wetly and offered a weak, “I’m sorry, Father.”

He kissed the top of her head, before answering her original question. “Now, both of you understand that violence is only ever the last resort.” The girls looked at each other and shrugged noncommittally. “But yes, I fought a very bad man today.”

He told them about it in terms that children were able to understand, withholding the more gruesome details. They hung on every word, and he could imagine the little ones sitting on M’Baku’s lap on his throne while he recounted his glorious war stories. It wasn’t too long before the girls’ eyelids were drooping, and T’Challa took that as his cue to tuck them into their respective beds. Imani and Uma must’ve been practically exhausted, because they were out before their heads hit the pillow.

By the time he returned to their bedroom, M’Baku was already in bed, the blankets slug low over his wide hips. His eyes were closed, but T’Challa suspected that the older man wasn’t actually asleep. “M’Baku...?”

“Go to sleep, kitten.” He rolled over so that his back was to T’Challa and moved to the absolute edge of the bed.

“Right.” T’Challa swallowed hard, before setting about preparing himself for bed.

\--

“T’Challa! T’Challa, wake up!” When T’Challa blinked his eyes open, it was to an uncomfortable wetness between his legs and beneath his body. It took him a moment to recognize the dull, throbbing ache in his lower abdomen…

“Shit!” He shot out of bed, putting as much distance between himself and M’Baku as he could, only to immediately regret the sudden movement. “I… I don’t… Shit, Shuri told me that the bleeding would stop after the procedure -,”

M’Baku narrowed his eyes at the smaller man. “First, it’s ‘you’re a little banged up, but the suit absorbed most of the damage’. Now, you tell me that you had to undergo a procedure?” M’Baku looked as if he’d been struck across the face.

“I swear, it’s not as serious as it sounds…” but the excuse sounds pathetic, even to his own ears.

“You fucking bled through your pajamas, the blankets, the sheets, and the mattress, T’Challa! Tell me how that ‘isn’t serious’?” He screamed, and T’Challa’s heart is thumping so hard he can hear it in his ears.

“Please, don’t yell…” He hated how his secondary sex made him cow from the older man, when he _really_ wanted to yell back.

“I just want you to let me take care of you.” M’Baku continued, his voice softening considerably.

T’Challa frowned, “I don’t need to be taken care of.”

He hurried into the en-suite bathroom, suddenly desperate to put some distance between himself and M’Baku. It would seem as if their roles had completely reversed from the night before. Mildly disgusted, he pulled off the blood-soaked clothing and tossed them into the nearest clothes hamper. It was likely that the stains would not be able to be removed and the clothes would have to be thrown away… He turned, clicking the lock into place and securing a towel around his waist.

He leaned back against the door, sliding down until he hit the floor and drawing his knees up into his chest. Why did this have to happen? His father had always taught him that there was no shame in his secondary sexuality, that an omega had the potential to be just as an effective leader as an alpha or a beta. Unlike the other omegas around his age, he’d never wanted to have children. Hell, he’d never wanted to be mated, and probably would have been content with a beta like Nakia for the rest of his life. There was just something about M’Baku…

Not to sound cliché, but M’Baku had been the kind of alpha that mothers warned their young about. He played with omegas like they were toys, keeping several unmated omegas in a harem meant solely for his sexual pleasure. He had several children by different mothers, with no interest in mating any of them. It wasn’t until he met T’Challa that he had any desire to have a permanent companion. And now that he’d settled down, all he wanted was to start a family with the man of his dreams. And though T’Challa’s mind was willing, his body was so very, very weak.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Though it doesn’t seem to matter, I’m heading to the Jabariland for the week. I have unfinished business to attend to, and clearly I am not needed here.” He said softly.

T’Challa bit down hard on the inside of his mouth, “Have safe travels.”

Silence. Then, “Is that really all that you have to say to me?”

A sudden wave of anger overtook him, and he twisted to face the door, “Why does it even matter? You deserve so much better than a defective omega that cannot seem to stop _breaking_ himself -,”

M’Baku’s brows knitted together. “What the hell are you talking about, kitten?”

The young King felt like he was going to be sick, “Nothing. Nothing. Just forget that I said anything.”

“T’Challa -,”

“LEAVE!” And he cannot help the tears that start falling when he heard M’Baku begin to walk away.


End file.
